


Does It Matter

by grey_sw (grey)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Androids, Emotions, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Slash, Road Trips, Robots, Slice of Life, Unrequited(?) Love, android love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 16:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey/pseuds/grey_sw
Summary: Noct's always wondered about that: about the irony of a Crown-commissioned android who cooks and drinks coffee and makes awful puns, about the inherent contradiction of a mechanical guardian who keeps Noct as close and safe as a loved one.Not unfeeling,Noct thinks, though he can never prove it.





	Does It Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notthelasttime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthelasttime/gifts).



> notthelasttime requested "Ignis is an android/cyborg/A.I. (or any variation thereof, whatever you prefer) in Noct's service. He's always been by Noct's side, taking care of him, supporting him, helping him... and Noctis realizes that somewhere along the way he started developing feelings.
> 
> Can be about Noctis coming to terms with those feelings (whether they're appropriate or not), acting on his feelings, or even questioning Ignis and his emotions and freewill (or lack of), or if this is doomed to forever be one-sided." 
> 
> Thanks for the fantastic prompt! I hope this fits the bill!

"Everything in order?" Ignis asks, as always.

"Yep," Noct says, as he always does. (Ignis does better with routine). 

Noct leans back as Ignis eases the Regalia onto the blacktop, smooth as can be. Beside him, Gladio grunts and opens his book, one arm propped against the open window. The wind teases Prompto's hair, catches against Iggy's spiked crest, and whistles through the backseat like flowing water. Noct watches with half-lidded eyes, feigning sleep. Driving is the one time Ignis isn't 100% attentive to him, which means Noct can watch him all he wants to.

His hands are gloved, steady at three and two; his eyes are a bright, sea-foam green behind his glasses. He drives defensively, letting everyone else go first, and he looks into each car as they pass, mindful of security. Each time it's the same, careful, mechanical turn of the head. Noct fancies that there's variation in the way his hand drops onto the turn signal, though, and in the way he reaches back for a cold can of Ebony, which Noct is quick to supply. 

Noct's always wondered about that: about the irony of a Crown-commissioned android who cooks and drinks coffee and makes awful puns, about the inherent contradiction of a mechanical guardian who keeps Noct as close and safe as a loved one. 

_Not unfeeling,_ Noct thinks, though he can never prove it. 

\---

They make camp that night by the sea, and Ignis sets a massive karlabos tail over the embers to slow-roast. The smell of it drives Noct crazy, and the other two aren't far behind -- he can hear Prompto moaning to himself now and again, though the sound's almost buried as the grease pops and hisses on the coals. Ignis sits across from him, cross-legged, prim and perfect in his striped button-down shirt. The breadth of his chest swells as he lifts his cup of coffee to his lips, challenging the fabric where the top two buttons are undone, and Noct is hard-pressed to look away. 

_This is so stupid,_ he thinks to himself, and yet his feelings don't go away. _He doesn't like you like that. He's not **programmed** to like you like that._

And yet when he looks back, Ignis is poking at his hard-won lobster tail with a small, satisfied smile, as if pleased by the way it's coming out.

\---

"Mind your things," Ignis says the next morning, once they've stuffed themselves anew with what's left of their catch. "The wind's picking up. Your chocobo underpants are like to blow away."

Gladio snorts, and Prompto yelps as he dashes over to pull his clothes off the line of the tent. They pack up quickly after that, pulling the tent down before the wind can do it more damage. By the time they make it to the car the wind has transitioned into steady rain, driving at an angle across the road. Only Ignis seems unbothered. Prompto huffs and pulls his vest tight, thumping his bare shoulders as if that'll put more life into them, and Gladio rummages through the footwell for his spare hoodie. Noct grouses beneath his breath at the way his shirt sticks to his back, and again as Ignis puts the top down on the car, sealing them into a glass bubble of discomfort and humidity.

Ignis notices -- of course he does. "My apologies, Highness."

"It's not your fault, Specs," Noct sighs. 

"Quite. But I do wish..." Ignis trails off into a sigh, and Noct glances up at him, suddenly uneasy. 

Despite his words, Ignis' brow is smooth, and his eyes are calm and placid behind his ever-present glasses. 

There's no hint at what Ignis wishes or does not wish.

\---

"Hey, Iggy," Noct says, as they approach the tunnel into Lestallum. Gladio and Prompto are dozing, each in their seat, and the rain has let up, though the stifling heat outside the car still paints the windows with a sheen of moisture. For the moment, Noct and Ignis are alone. "Do you ever..." Noct asks.

_Do you ever want--_

_Do you ever feel--_

_Ignis, do you--_

Ignis lifts a brow, and glances back at Noct through the rear-view mirror. 

"Yes, Highness?"

"Nothing."

\---

They get skewers for lunch, dripping with a searing orange sauce that only Prompto can stand. (Noct gives him the rest of his own share, and takes small sips from the cool pot of cream Ignis has for his coffee, soothing his lips). He watches with only a little incredulity as Prom finishes Noct's skewers, Gladio's, and his own, and then asks the guy at the counter for another. The guy smirks, rolling it in an extra dose of sauce, but Prompto doesn't blink as he pulls each piece of chickatrice off with his teeth, humming with satisfaction. 

(Sometimes Noct wonders if _he's_ not the robot, with an iron stomach like that. But then Prompto trips over his own feet again, or gets kicked out of the convenience store again for yelling at the Justice Monsters machine, and Noct thinks -- nah.)

"Truly exceptional," Ignis murmurs, soft and smooth. He leans right into Noct's personal space, his lips close to Noct's ear so that Prompto won't hear him, and Noct's heart thumps loud inside his chest. "It's a wonder he doesn't perish."

"Yeah," Noct manages. Ignis' arm brushes against his shoulder. "Yeah, it's. It's, uh..." 

Ignis leans back again -- Noct's saving grace as always -- and he's left with the hammering of his heart as his only company... just as Gladio puts Prompto in a headlock, grinning at the way he struggles. "Like to see you handle _this_ that easily, tough guy!"

"H-hey! Noct, help!" 

\--- 

They play cards together that night in the air-conditioned miracle that is the Leville, betting with a pile of Choco-Os poured straight from the box. (Noct keeps being tempted to munch on his; they taste like slightly stale childhood memories, like Iggy sneaking a carton of milk from the Citadel kitchens so his prince can enjoy contraband cereal). 

"I fold," Ignis says, and sets his cards down. He still has a sizeable stack of "chips" in front of him, because he always plays defensively, folding every time the cards aren't in his favor. Gladio is more of a non-stop bluffer, whether he's got the cards to back it up or not, and Prompto's more given to wild, erratic bets -- sometimes it pays off, and sometimes it doesn't.

It isn't, not tonight. Prom's already halfway into a game of King's Knight, frowning down at his phone.

"Your turn, Highness."

"Oh. I, uh, I call." Noct shoves two more Os into the pile. 

"Very well. Gladio?"

"Your bet." Two more, and then: "Actually, I'll raise you." Gladio adds four more.

Noct narrows his eyes at his Shield, trying to smoke him out. Gladio returns his gaze with easy, smirking confidence.

"...fine," Noct mutters. He pushes four more pieces into the middle of the table. "How's that?"

"That's it, I'm out," Prompto says. He shoves the rest of his cereal into the pot and hops up onto the bed, stretching extravagantly. 

"Hey! You can't just quit in the middle."

"Says who? I'm tired. And Leiden Hold-'Em is hella boring."

"You're just sayin' that 'cos you're losing, loser," Gladio snorts. "That ain't what you said last time."

"Last time I won, dude! Games are more fun when you win."

"Quite." Ignis glances over at Gladio, and then at Noct. The corners of his mouth turn up, as if for Noct's eyes only. "Shall we call it for tonight, then?"

They count up all the Choco-Os, and Noct comes out two ahead. Gladio snorts and puts his cards down -- he's got nothing, as usual -- and then heads for the bathroom, muttering about getting the first shower. He tweaks Prompto's shoulder on the way there, but Prom just rolls under it, thumbs flying against his screen. The tinny fanfare of a level-up floats over to where Noct and Ignis are putting the cards away, thin and triumphant.

"Hey," Noct murmurs, just as Ignis turns to get ready for bed. "Wait a second. Did you count 'em? Did you know..."

"Oh, Noct," Ignis smirks. "Haven't you noticed by now? I always know."

\---

Noct wakes later, shivering his way out of a half-remembered dream. The curtains are open, and the silvery light that streams in from the balcony seems solid enough to set them twitching. Ignis is still and silent beneath the covers next to him, his functions shut down for the night, but Gladio's snores fill the room with an easy, rhythmic two-step beat: in and out, in and out. 

Noct reaches for his glass of water, and sips it. He puts it back. He rolls over. Time passes. Finally, with a huff of annoyance, he slips from the covers and pads out onto the balcony in his bare feet, looking out over the city.

Lestallum stretches before him, blocky buildings hung with steaming pipes and improvised electric wires. He catches hints of the cliff's edge through the tangle of streets, and the spires of the Disc glow an eerie blue in the crater beyond. Nobody's moving on the streets, not this late; Noct and his friends are too far from the city that never sleeps. 

"Gil for your thoughts?" 

Noct whirls, breathing hard, but it's just Ignis: resplendent in pressed pajamas, leaning against the doorjamb as if nothing was out of the ordinary. As if he hadn't been deactivated only moments before. 

"You. You were..."

Ignis quirks an eyebrow at him. "You were gone," he says. "I worried about you."

The breath leaves Noct in a rush.

"Are you quite alright?" Ignis crosses to his side, tucking in next to him. The steady warmth of him is almost human, almost alive -- more so when he wraps an arm around Noct's waist, tugging him close. 

"Y-yeah. I just... Iggy?"

"Noct," Ignis murmurs, and surely, _surely_ Noct isn't wrong about this. He isn't wrong about the kindness that burns inside the mechanical shell of his oldest friend, about the long-worn love in that whisper; he isn't wrong about the softness of Ignis' lips as they press behind his ear in a gentle, caring kiss. 

_Does it really matter?_

"Come to bed," Ignis tells him, and Noct obeys.


End file.
